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"BRIARWOOD"
aka "Whence Cometh My Help"
Revised Version
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
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BOOK FOUR
"FAR FROM THE CROWD"
Chapter Forty-one
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"I hear your voice in the summer breeze
and I rejoice in the chance to reprise
those breathless moments when love had its day
in the sound of the surf on the shore.
I see your face when I look at a star
and I embrace all the things that you are.
My love for you time can never dispel.
Oh, my beloved, beloved infidel."
"Beloved Infidel"
by Paul Francis Webster
music by Franz Waxman
from the movie, "Beloved Infidel"
copyright 1959 20th Century Fox
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"I'll cancel the meeting with the goddamned contractors," Roger shouted. "Timmy is as much my son as he's yours. Besides, I don't want you to go to New York without me if there's a slasher running around the streets."
"Roger, my love, there are hundreds of slashers or wannabe bashers in New York and always have been," Cliff replied. "And why do you feel as if you're slash-free? We could be walking down Broadway and someone might take a jab at you and miss me entirely...then what would happen to the project? No! It's more important that you get the final details wrapped up and get everything in place at the Institute just the way you want it. The plans are indelibly engraved in your imagination, not mine."
"How can I have a fucking meeting with anyone while I'm scared out of my wits worrying about you and praying at the same time that Timmy pulls through?"
"There's always that cell phone which you wear as an earring. You can call me every fifteen minutes if it'll ease your mind."
"I know...it's just that we haven't spent a single night apart since I came home from the hospital."
"Roger, we're both young and not above having phone sex if that will help you go to sleep," Cliff joked.
"Oh yeah? What if I get the wrong number and get some trick over the phone."
"You know that speed-dialing will not connect you with the wrong number. Even if it did, think what a thrill you might be giving some unknown stranger, having phone sex with the famous Roger Cole!"
"I swear, sometimes I feel like Jay has rubbed off on you than the other way around."
"Sweetheart! There is nothing to worry about. New York is where Rob and Timmy live. It's their home and they're not afraid to live there."
"You mean they WEREN'T until Timmy got stabbed."
"You realize that Timmy is in the hospital with the finest doctors, using their finest medical skills trying to save his life, while at the moment, Rob is facing all this trauma alone. I HAVE to be there for him."
"Then, why not BOTH of us?"
"Roger, New York is only a couple of hours away. If I need you, you can be there with me sooner than it takes Jay to prepare dinner."
"Did Rob say anything to make you believe that Timmy is...is not going to make it?"
"From what he said, he gave me no indication either way...but you must remember, Rob is a professional actor. Being his 'adopted' father, I should be able to read the meaning behind his conversation...but it DID sound serious."
"I know this is a helluva time to ask, but what about the dinner we had planned for Ed and Chris this weekend. Should I cancel?"
"No. I think being around friends would be good therapy for you if I'm not back. Besides, if you want to continue playing Cupid for those two, the sooner you get them together again in a social atmosphere, the more chance you have in succeeding."
"WHO'S playing Cupid?"
"You are, my love...and in my heart of hearts, I hope you succeed. You work side by side with Ed every day just as I do with Chris...and if both of our instincts are accurate, they should at least become good friends if nothing more."
"I'm still amazed that Chris invited Ed to go to dinner with him and stunned that Ed accepted."
"Besides us, whom do they have in their lives outside their fellow workers?"
"Well, I wouldn't refer to Jeff, Troy, and Jay, as fellow workers."
'Yes, but all three of them have someone to take to dinner or go with to a movie or concert. Who does Ed or Chris have? Roger, I'm not as aspirant as you about their forming a physical relationship, but if they just have each other as platonic companions."
"All right, I'll tell Jay to go ahead and plan the dinner, but it won't be the same without you. Who's gonna be MY dinner date?"
"Well, there's all kinds of guys looking for a date on the Internet."
"You're a religiously iconic asshole!"
"And you love it, don't you?"
"Okay, I give in...but I AM driving you to the airport."
"And I'm sure you'll be calling my cellphone before I get my seat belt fastened. Remember, when you left to go to the ends of the earth, there was no way I could contact you."
"I've never forgiven myself for that."
"I forgave you long ago because you came back to me a better person."
"Look, if there's ANYTHING Timmy or Rob needs..."
"Save your breath. That goes without saying. I know you'd give your last dime to help any of our 'boys'...They know it too."
"What do you have to do in order to get ready?"
"Jay packed my bag, my ticket is reserved at the airport, I WOULD like to shower and shave before I leave."
"Good! I'll go shower with you."
"What?"
"We might as well make one more memory before you depart."
"Go turn on the faucets!"
"Race you!"
They were like two kids racing to the bathroom, taking off an item of clothing every other step on the way to the bathroom.
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It was nearly noon and Ray Heffron was banging on John Larkin's door with enough force to dent the red metal covering it. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Open up! It's the police," Ray commanded.
John was still in a stupor from falling to sleep so late after a long night's investigation and an even longer evening of sex with David. He was still clutching David in the spoon position in which they had fallen asleep. Both were naked.
"What the fuck?", John managed to say as he tried to awaken.
"Hey, rookie, you planning on working today?" Ray continued.
"Work? Oh shit!" John thought. "What time was it?" What time was he due to be on duty? And why was his partner knocking and shouting at his door? He became even more alarmed when he became cognizant of his bed partner...what the two of them had done for hours...but what was more horrifying...how could he hide David and let Ray in without revealing his being gay and having slept with a victim's roommate? Damn! John knew he would eventually tell his new partner about his homosexuality, but he didn't plan on revealing it in such an overt fashion.
"David! David," John pushed and shoved, "Wake up!"
"What?" David asked, awakening from his deep sleep.
"Quick! Put your shorts on and go lie down on the couch in the living room. Take this pillow and blanket and cover up. Pretend you've been there all night." Ray ordered.
"What?...Why?...What's going on?" David said, trying to wake up.
"It's Ray, my partner, at the door." John offered in a loud whisper. "He doesn't know about me and he certainly doesn't know that you spent the night here."
"Hmm? Oh, OK." David moved like a snail demonstrating inertia.
"Hurry!!" John insisted.
"OK...OK...I'm going. Jesus!"
John knew he would never get away with it. After all, Ray was a detective and a damned good one. He would know immediately that everything was not as John was trying to make it appear.
After David was lying on the couch and pretending to be asleep, John grabbed a robe and slowly went to the door to quieten the noisy Ray.
"Hi, Ray," John said, pretending to clear the morning phlegm from his throat when in actuality, it was a residue of one of the many loads of David's sperm that had been deposited at the entrance of John's esophagus.
"Jesus! It took you long enough!" Ray grumbled."You planning on working today?"
"Sure, Ray, but I thought our call wasn't until four this afternoon."
"When we've got a murderer to catch, there IS no call. You're on-call twenty-four hours a day until we make an arrest."
"Shit! When are we supposed to sleep? Didn't you go to bed at all?" John complained.
"Sure, I lay down in a warm bed for an hour, got up, took a cold shower, had a cup of hot coffee and a cigarette and I'm ready to start looking for the perp. Goddamn! I figure you to be twenty or thirty years my junior. When you get my age, sleep's not that important." Ray had been walking farther and farther into John's apartment. Then he spotted the couch with "Cinderella" asleep on it. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Oh, David." John started with his explanation. "His apartment door was strapped with crime scene tape and he had no place to crash."
"You mean all the hotels in New York were filled?"
"Ray, it was almost four AM. Why should he check into a hotel at that hour, especially with hotels charging a hundred and a half for one night?"
"You broke a rule." Ray interjected. "You don't take suspects or homeless roommates of murdered victims home with you...EVER!"
"David is not a suspect, is he?"
"Until a case is closed, EVERYONE'S a suspect! Jesus! I can't believe you'd bring a "twinkle-toes" back to your apartment, at that. What'd you do? Expect to get a freebie blowjob from him for his gratitude? I hope to God you had your bedroom door locked!", Ray ranted as he made his way to look into John's bedroom at the mussed up bed. He didn't need a Sherlock Holmes spy glass to see all the wet spots on the sheets and pillowcase.
Ray stood by the bed and looked at the scene of the "crime".
"Tsk, tsk," Ray continued, "either you jerked off all night or had one colossal wet dream."
Thank God Ray wasn't looking at John to see the solid red color of embarrassment glowing from his entire body.
"Shit! So I was a little stressed out..." John said, "I DID jerk off a couple of times. It was the best thing I could find to cope with the stress."
"If you were THAT stressed out, you oughta go check yourself into Bellevue for about a month."
"Well, it had been a long night...and morning." John stammered.
"Open your robe." Ray said to John.
"What?"
"I said 'open your robe'. I wanna check on something."
If it were possible, John became even more embarrassed. "What the fuck do you want to check on? Isn't this a bit early in the day to see who's got the longest dick?"
"I KNOW who's got the longest dick. I don't wanna see your dick. I wanna see something else."
"Shit, Ray, this is silly. You wanna see if my navel is an 'innie' or an 'outie'?"
"Nope! Quit stalling and open up your goddamned bathrobe!"
"OK. OK." John untangled the bow and opened his robe for John's short-arm inspection. "Satisfied now?"
"Not really." Ray said."I was hoping your pubic hair would match the blond locks on your head."
"Why?"
"Because, in that big spot of cum on your bed there are several dark-brown hairs...about the same color as Sleeping Beauty's hair is on the couch over there."
John was speechless...angry and speechless. He didn't know how to cover up what Ray had just discovered.
"So you not only broke a rule by housing a suspect...you slept with the fucker...and from the way it looks, you did more than sleep with him, That is, unless you were trying to accumulate DNA evidence by getting a sample of his semen or should I say...many, many samples?"
"Goddamn it, Ray, you're invading my privacy!!" John all but shouted.
"Not when it interferes with a crime investigation."
"What did I do wrong? I was off duty."
"You could have told me you were a Tinkerbell! Partners don't keep those kind of things from partners."
"All right! You want me to tell you that I'm gay?"
"You don't have to. I found that out by myself."
"Now what?" John continued. "You gonna turn me in to the captain or IAB?"
"Nope. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. Never, and I mean, NEVER, try to keep a secret from me."
"Being gay is not the kind of thing you announce. I don't wear an AIDS or a rainbow pin. I don't have a lavender star on my lapel. I don't wait for my co-workers to drop the soap in the shower...and I don't want my partner NOT covering my back if someone is shooting at me."
"John, being a partner is like being married. Maybe more so, because a partner is the one person you rely on to save your life. You have to be totally honest with your partner, or else one of us might get hurt."
"I'm sorry. What do I have to do, get on my knees and beg your forgiveness...and while I'm down there...well, you know." He immediately immediately it was a sorry attempt at a joke.
"I'd knock you cross-eyed if you ever tried to do something like that to me. I just want you to be honest with me...or else, one of us should ask the captain for a new partner."
John stood a long time in silence just looking at Ray.
"OK, I promise. From now on...no secrets...total honesty!"
"All right, you've groveled enough. Now go make a pot of coffee...enough for you, me, and the princess and the pea."
John turned to go into the kitchen as Ray added, "By the way, was he any good?"
"Who?"
"Young Lochinvar. Was he a good cocksucker?"
"Well, now that you mention it...yes he was...is. If you had come by a couple of hours earlier, you could've found out for yourself!" John managed to smile for the first time since he had heard Ray's knock.
"No thanks," Ray joked back. "My sex partners have got to be like my bowling ball...three holes and nothing less!"
"Let me know if you want me to tell you how to improve your average."
"Go make the coffee and try to awaken Rip Van Twinkle over there."
When John had exited, Ray smiled. He had been tough on John. Ray was no dummy, he had known all along that John was gay, but he had made his point...one that he hoped John never would forget.
"Alex Clayton?" the tall man asked.
"Yes sir."
"Come in and have a seat."
"Thank you, sir."
"My name is Clint Sebastian. I'm the director here at the crisis center."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Alex responded, extending his hand to shake.
"How long have you been in L.A.?" Clint asked.
"Just a couple of weeks."
"I see you were the managing director of the crisis center connected with the Roger Cole Institute and Foundation back in Briarwood."
"Yes sir."
"That's quite an organization. How is the research doing with the cure and vaccine for AIDS, if I may ask?"
"They're making tremendous progress, sir. We feel the cure is just around the corner."
"That's excellent!" Clint said, leaning back in his chair.
"Of course, even if they found the cure, 100%, unfortunately it will be years before it's delivered to the public." Alex replied.
"Pardon?"
"Bureaucracy...or more accurately, bullshit! The research department back at Cole feels that there's been a cure for a number of years, but due to the slow-ass maneuvers of the FDA and all the lobbying of the drug companies that camp on the doorsteps of the Senate and the House in Washington, thousands, maybe millions have died, all in the name of greed."
"I've heard rumors to that effect." Clint said, leaning forward on his desk, paying closer attention to what Alex had to say.
"You know how many zillions the drug companies have made off the "cocktail" and other limp-assed treatment drugs? As soon as they announce the "cure", all their zillions of profit go down the drain. The same thing goes for cancer, Parkinson's, and so many other killers. The cures are there. But they must be tested and tested, delaying the release, due to corporate greed that keeps the delays continuing. Heck, let some drug company CEO's son or daughter contract some non-curable disease and suddenly he or she is whisked off to some experimental research hospital and these non-approved drugs are made available to these select few and very quietly he or she is cured and goes back to the daily lifestyle with no hoopla or explanation as to why they were sick and almost immediately well again."
"Alex, are you sure about what you just said?" Clint asked, very concerned.
"I'd bet MY life on it. But who's gonna listen to me? The C.D.C.? Congress? The President? The Supreme Court? Heck no! They've all been bought off by the lobbyists, too."
"But what about other countries that aren't under the guidance and control of the lobbyists? Say, France, Germany, or Great Britain?"
"The American drug companies hold the formulas and won't release them for fear their "cocktail" drug stocks will plummet."
"Damn!" Clint said, shaking his head in near-disbelief.
"A few months ago when they were talking about dropping the words, 'under God', from the pledge of allegiance, I was all for it. I was hoping that someone would have the balls to substitute, 'one nation, under monetary bureaucracy'. At least it's more honest."
"Wow!" Clint exclaimed. "and you're applying for a position at the crisis center here? Why?"
"At least on this level, I'd be dealing with the people that matter...the victims."
"But don't you feel you're overqualified? I mean, ours may be larger than Briarwood Crisis Center but you were holding down a position comparable to mine."
"Please don't feel threatened. I'm not after your job...nor a high paying position. I know it might be difficult to explain, but money is of no importance to me. I guess you'd have to know the kind of family and friends who raised me back in Briarwood."
"If you're any example of the people they're turning out, they must really be something."
"They're the best! My mom is dead. My dad is a lawyer. Maybe these are things you don't want to hear, but my dad is gay. He has a permanent partner, David, whom he loves very much. Dad is the bursar for the Cole foundation funds. My brother, Jeff, who will no doubt be a bishop someday, is studying to be a priest. He, too, is gay and he has a lover, Johnny, who took my place at the center in Briarwood. When he's not at school studying or helping out at the church, Jeff spends every hour possible sitting on the bedside of some patient, usually an AIDS patient, making every moment as comfortable and wonderful as he can...And oh, yes, in case you're wondering, I'm gay. I have a lover, Ted, who's a big sports writer and broadcaster, here in L.A. We moved here together from Briarwood."
"Jesus!" Clint said, smiling, "How am I supposed to respond to your declaration?"
"You have a job opening, don't you?"
"Well, yes."
"So? I'm qualified. Hire me! That is, unless you discriminate about employing gay people."
"Well,..no. I'm afraid I'd have to fire myself if I did." Clint realized what he had just said and became somewhat flustered. "Jesus! I've held this position for over eight years and you're the first employee or potential employee I've ever revealed this to."
"I guess that's my brother, Jeff's, influence on me. He's a little guy, younger than me, but everyone tells him everything without his asking. If the truth be told, there's not a secret in Briarwood that anyone has every kept from him. He has a mentor, Father Cliff, who's rector of St. Genesius. Father Cliff's talent has rubbed off on Jeff."
"If I hire you, is my secret safe with you?"
"If that's the way you want it...sure! However, if you don't mind my saying it, there's nothing like the fresh air you'll breathe if you ever come out of the closet."
"I'll remember that!" Clint smiled again. "Alex, I would love to have you join us here, but there is the matter of salary."
"How much exactly do I have to pay to work here? I told you money was not important."
"Christ! What are you, some kind of transient Samaritan?"
"I'd never thought of myself in those terms. I could call Jeff that, but I in no way measure up to him."
"Could you meet your living expenses if I offered you, say, $30,000 for starters?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of $25,000...just enough to pay my share of the rent and food to Ted."
"Your offer makes me highly suspicious!"
"Don't be. I don't need the job for the money. I need it for my pride and self-respect in the knowledge that I'm doing my share to help guys and gals my age." Alex said, sincerely.
"Then, how the fuck can I refuse? When do you want to start work?"
"Is tomorrow too soon?"
"Tomorrow will be fine," Clint said. "Now, could I add an extra duty to your workload?"
"Just name it!"
"I want you to conduct a seminar for all my workers and explain how the operational procedures work at the Cole Crisis Center. I have an idea that there's a lot you can teach us."
"I'll do what I can, although you might not approve of my approach."
"I already approve of your approach, just listening to how you live your life. I've already learned a number of things in this interview. I expect there's a lot more you can teach me."
"You wanna go have a drink at the nearest gay bar?" Alex laughed. "I'm kidding. I just don't know what to say when I'm complimented. Jeff's the same way. He always cracks a joke when he's at a loss for words of praise heaped on him."
"I think there IS one about four blocks from here." Clint joked back.
"Uh uh, only when you're ready...and only when you can go with me AND Ted."
"Believe me...you and only you will be the first to know." Clint said, smiling. "Now...until tomorrow morning...". He extended his hand out to Alex.
"Until tomorrow morning," Alex said, gripping Clint's hand and locking his eyes into Clint's.
Alex gave the office the once-over as he left. He felt good, He felt important and he knew he had furthered his self-respect and his love for his brotherhood. He raced home to tell Ted and call his dad to tell the news.
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With Cliff leaving for New York, Chris realized he would have to hear twice as many confessions than usual. At least with Cliff gone, Chris wouldn't have to confess to Cliff about Ed's kissing him and the prurient thoughts that kiss had stirred up in Chris mind and loins. Ever since he became a priest, Chris had assumed the role of 'always the bridesmaid..." as he had watched everyone else with someone in their lives while going home to his empty bed except on rare occasions when he had picked up a one-night trick. But no one ever falls in love with a trick. A trick is just what it is...a trick. Something to fool one's mind or sight.
Throughout high school and college, Chris had turned more women's heads than men's, primarily because of his masculine good looks. Most gay men would give up on approaching Chris because they would naturally assume he was heterosexual through and through. This created Chris biggest handicap in finding a partner of his own. Chris was always attracted to the strong athletic types with no hint of gay femininity...which meant most of the guys who turned him on were straight...just as everyone assumed about him.
So once again, Chris found himself foiled in his routine dilemma, falling for a straight guy...a straight doctor to be precise. This new friendship would more than likely end as all the others, a friend to call on his birthday or to send a Christmas card. However, no 'straight' friend had ever kissed him before. Had this given Chris blind hope? He had set himself up to be hurt many times before, but this time it was different. Even if his feelings for Ed led nowhere, he still had to see Ed daily at the hospital and in actuality, Ed was his superior during the hours Chris worked at Cole Institute and Hospital.
Chris had an urge...well, more than an urge...a desire to call Ed before they met face to face. Perhaps he could get a reading on Ed's guilt, shame, or whatever after leaving his house the night before...AFTER the kiss. He thought about calling Ed all afternoon before the afternoon 'confessor's; rush hour, but his 'nerves' convinced him not to call Ed. However, at 1:00 PM, the phone in Chris' office at the church rang.
"St. Genesius...Father Curtis, speaking..."
"Chris?"
"Yes?"
"This is Ed Middleton."
Chris almost dropped the phone as he suddenly felt his lower intestines try to drop through his colon.
"Oh...hello, Ed."
"I know you're busy and I only had a minute's break but I DID want to call and tell you what a wonderful time I had at dinner last night."
"That's so nice to hear. I...I must say it was nice not having to eat alone. I suppose that was a dumb thing to say...it's just..."
"Don't apologize. I know exactly what you meant and why you said it. I, too, eat alone every night...at least when I find time to have dinner and not pick up fast food on my way home from work."
"I suppose that's why I love my little French restaurant on occasions. Usually, my dinner partner is Ronald McDonald or Dave Thomas from 'Wendy's'."
"I just received a call from Roger and he's still expecting the two of us for dinner this weekend."
"I was sure dinner had been canceled with Cliff's sudden trip to New York."
"I heard about that. It's too bad. Even though I've never met Timmy and Rob, I'm such a big fan, I feel as if I know both of them...and now, knowing that they are so closely attached to Roger and Cliff..."
"As I said last night, I've only met them over the phone at Cliff's house, but I've prayed for Timmy all morning."
"Since you know I'm not very religious, I sure that if there is a God, He'll hear you and Cliff."
"Thank you."
"So, do you still want me to pick you up Friday evening around seven?"
"That sounds great!"
"I...I wanted to call you as soon as I got home from your house last night, but my better judgment talked me out of it..."
"I...I thought about you a long time after you left."
"I hope that my little romantic action didn't cause you distress."
"No...I'm sure for whatever reason it happened was all in the frame of friendship."
"I...I kept trying to convince myself the same thing, Chris. I know I shouldn't be saying these things to you over the telephone. I'm sure by your being gay, you must have had hetero men give you the wrong impression only to hurt you or let you down later. I can say this because I've heard it over and over from my gay HIV and AIDS patients...and for that, I suppose I behaved like a heel."
"Kissing people, whether they're men or women, gay or hetero, comes quite naturally to me in my profession. Quite often I'm kissed at the door at the end of a mass."
"Yes, but you're talking about your parishioners, not someone at your home, siting on your couch, sniffing brandy while listening to Mahler."
"Music can cause people to do strange things...IF it's the right kind of music in the right setting and atmosphere. Otherwise, people such as John Williams or Dimitri Tiompkin wouldn't have a mantle lined with Academy Awards writing Hollywood soundtracks."
"I know you're due to be at the hospital tomorrow or later this evening, but I can't wait to see you in person again. There are things we must talk about."
"Oh?"
"Chris, I'm afraid I've been in a grumpy mood all day. After I got home last night, I received a call that another of my patients had succumbed."
"I'm so sorry, Ed."
"I didn't get much sleep after that...plus...every time I closed my eyes, I saw your eyes and your face."
"Oh?"
"Damn it, Chris! I don't know how I feel or why I'm feeling it, but I came to a conclusion that the kiss I gave you was MORE than just a friendly kiss."
"I...I don't know what to say, Ed."
"Then, don't say it. I'm caught up in my work. The pressure is building up and today, all I could think about was how relaxed I felt when I was with you. I...I've actually hated myself all day for not taking you into my arms last night and holding you just to see if you felt the same way."
"Would you like me to answer?"
"I'm sure I know what you'll say and I'm not sure if I'm ready to hear it."
"In that case let me just say that I feel that we became close friends last night. It's all right for close friends to want to be together, sometimes hold hands, pat each other on the back, embrace, and even kiss without becoming more involved than just close friendship."
"God! I'm so glad you found a way of putting into words what I'm feeling or trying to say."
"Would it be all right if a close friend were to invite his close friend over tonight for a drink or a DVD movie?"
"You're inviting me?"
"Sure. That's what close friends do. As the kids say, they 'hang out'. Wanna come hang out with me for a while tonight? You can even pick out the movie. Roger has stocked me with thousands of DVD's. You pick!"
"I suppose this conversation sounds adolescent, but...SURE, I'd love to."
"Eight o'clock?"
"I'll bring some Ben and Jerry's or some Poppycock corn if you like."
"Bring some of each and we'll skip the drinks and enjoy ourselves with clear heads."
"Great!"
"Goodbye, friend."
"Goodbye...friend..."
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The New York traffic was horrendous, as usual, as Cliff's limousine sped toward St. Luke's Hospital. As soon as the vehicle pulled into the drive, Cliff jumped out and ran in the door and went to the information desk to find out where the surgery waiting room was. First he had to be frisked for security purposes. The large gold crucifix that Roger had given him, which he wore on a chain next to his heart, caused a loud beep and Cliff had to remove it before he could pass through the safety trellis. He refastened the clasp as he hurried to the elevator. Cliff didn't mind how unethical it might have looked for a priest to be running down the hall of a hospital, but he knew how long Rob had been waiting to see him. As Cliff entered the waiting room, he saw Rob's back. Rob was looking at the view out the window on the far side of the room. Halfway to him, Cliff called his name.
Rob turned, looking disheveled, unshaven, and badly in need of a bath and a friendly hug.
"My God! Cliff!" Rob shouted as he ran to his 'father'.
The two of them embraced and whether it was out of nerves, affection, or gratitude, kisses were planted on the other's cheeks and necks, like two lovers meeting after some disastrous separation. It didn't occur to either of them how they might have looked to anyone who didn't understand, what with all the bad press that had recently been heaped on priests and male parishioners. Thank God there were no reporters or photographers from the "Post" or "Daily News" in the room or they would have had a sensational picture for tomorrow's front page with a caption like, "Priests are molesting males in New York's public places now".
"How's Timmy?" Cliff whispered into Rob's ear, in between hugs and kisses.
"I still don't know, Cliff. They haven't told me a goddamned word in almost five hours."
"That's hopeful!" Cliff said, "He's alive and they're still working on him."
"I knew you'd have something positive to say. You always do...even when everyone else gives up!"
"YOU haven't given up and neither have I. The doctors and the nurses haven't given up either. Just wait! God has other Tony awards to be presented to both of you!"
Rob broke down with the cry he had held back for hours. All he had needed was Cliff's strong shoulder to bury his grief and fear into. Cliff stroked the back of Rob's head and let him release the tons of pent-up emotion until Rob's cry had reduced to a whimper. Cliff took Rob's hand and led him to a couple of seats where they sat down with Cliff's arm still around Rob's shoulders. They sat that way, silent and unmoving for about a half hour. Finally, the double doors leading to surgery parted and out walked a doctor, still in his scrubs and a surgical mask hanging, half-hooked from his face. He quietly walked over to Rob and Cliff.
Rob recognized the surgeon and tried to get a reading of the doctor's expression before he asked, "Timmy...how is he?"
"His condition is grave. We were able to patch the artery and repair most of the damage tissue caused by the weapon's entry. He was given almost eight pints of blood, but he is stable. His vital signs are somewhat erratic which is normal due to the trauma he suffered. We can't be sure of anything for the next 24 to 48 hours...but he IS holding on."
Rob was speechless. He didn't know what to say or ask.
"Thank you, Doctor," Cliff said to him. "You've done all you can for now. The rest...well, the rest...is something we can help with."
"I was hoping you'd say that," the doctor replied. "There are some powers that you have that go beyond the scope of practical medicine."
"Just you keep doing what you can...and we'll do the same." Cliff said.
"Thank you, Father."
"Is there anything we can do for you?"
"Father, forgive me," the doctor said, quietly, "but you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?"
"I do," Rob said.
"Could I?" the doctor asked. "I know how unorthodox this may look."
"After what you've just done for Timmy, that's the least I can do." Rob said. "But aren't cigarettes disallowed in hospitals?"
"Sssh. Not in the doctors' lounge." the doctor whispered, "There's even been a bottle of non-hospital alcohol reported being there after a long surgical ordeal."
"Go have a nip, doctor," Cliff said. "You know I can't divulge secrets. You've earned it."
"Thanks."
The doctor took the cigarette and started back through the doors. Cliff followed him closely.
"Before you go...off the record, what's your personal feeling about Timmy's recovery?" Cliff asked, in a voice too low for Rob to hear.
"Frankly, I don't have much faith in his pulling through, but that's just between us professionals."
"I think I have enough faith for both of us." Cliff replied. "Is there any way I can see him?"
"Not really, but if you're his priest, we might make an exception. Follow me and if anyone asks, just say something like you're here to give him his last rites."
"You're very kind," Cliff said.
"I'm a big Broadway buff, Father. I saw them both when I went to see, 'Green Dolphin Street'."
"Let me go tell Rob, I'll be gone for a few minutes. I don't want him to know I'm going to see Timmy."
"Sure."
Cliff asked Rob if he would go get them both a cup of morning coffee from the hospital cafeteria since the coffee on the plane had been so horrible. Rob left and Cliff accompanied the doctor to Timmy's recovery room.
Cliff almost broke into tears when he saw Timmy all wired up to monitors with tubes coming and going from each exposed orifice. Timmy's face was that of a cherubim...so sweet...so innocent...and certainly didn't deserve all the horror he had encountered just a few short hours ago. Cliff carefully placed his hand on Timmy's forehead and brushed back the blonde curly locks, wet and stuck with perspiration. Cliff leaned over the side rails of the bed to whisper to him.
"Hey, little buddy, it's me, Cliff and I'm here to see that you get strong and well. If you can hear me, I want you to know that you're safe. Rob is safe and close by, ready to take you home and love you as he always has since you two met. I want you to know that I still love you as if you were my own son. Roger loves you the same as I do. We are both so proud of you for using the talent God gave you. Pardon me for making a little joke, but God must have been looking out for you. You had an injury to your left shoulder but He saw to it that your conducting arm wasn't injured. You might need that left arm to quieten down the first violins, but that's a small price to pay on a temporary basis. You're gonna be fine, little guy, and you're gonna get well. Rob needs you. I need you...and Broadway needs you."
Cliff leaned closer and kiss Timmy's forehead and then as if by some unexplained miracle, Timmy's eyelids began to flutter and his left eye opened...slowly followed by his right eye. His eyes looked as if he had a glaze over them but Cliff watched closely as Timmy's dilated pupils retracted and became smaller, sensing that his eyes were focusing directly into Cliff's. Timmy had a small NG tube up his nose and a larger clear tube in his mouth pumping oxygen in and out of his lungs. Timmy tried to speak but the was too many pieces of life-saving apparatus hindering his trying to talk. Timmy made one verbal noise that could only be interpreted as the word, "Cliff", There was no doubt about it...this sound coming from Timmy was definitely a euphemism for his dearest friend's name.
The attending nurse heard it at the same time as Cliff.
"My God, is he hemorrhaging?" the nurse exclaimed, She went to the phone and put the receiver on intercom and announce, "Code Blue!! Code Blue!".
Within a matter of seconds, a team of nurses, doctors, and techs pushing a crash cart, flooded the room. The surgeon, who hadn't yet finished his cigarette, came running in. He shouted at Cliff, "Father, what happened?"
"I'm not sure," Cliff said, "but I think he's trying to talk."
"NO WAY! Nurse, strip the patient's gown off and rev the paddles up!" the doctor screamed.
It was then and only then that he realized Timmy's eyes were open and indeed, he was trying to communicate. The doctor made a second assessment and slowly removed the large blue tube from Timmy's mouth. Timmy smacked his lips as if to accumulate some saliva. Then he looked back into Cliff's eyes and weekly whispered, "Hiya, Father Cliff."
If chins could make a sound while hitting the ground all at once, there would have been a huge thud in the recovery room caused by all the professional staff. No one believed what he or she was looking at. Slowly at first, one nurse disconnected the vital sign electric monitor and took his blood pressure with a standard nurses' pump cuff. It read 100/70 and she took it again using Timmy other arm...108/68. His pulse was a strong 80; resp. 23. Everything appeared to be normal.
"Doctor," Cliff spoke above the excitement and amazement of the staff, "would it be all right it Rob saw this?"
"I insist on it!" the doctor replied. "Nurse, would you go into the waiting room and get Timmy's male companion...STAT!"
"Yessir." she said as she scurried to the waiting room. She was still so excited that she didn't bother to go all the way into the waiting room, and she just opened up the double doors and shouted, "HEY! Are you Timmy's friend?"
Rob's heart seemed to stop and he froze before he answered. "YES!"
"Then follow me quickly! The doctor wants to see you, STAT!"
Nervously, Rob dropped both cardboard containers of coffee right on the floor as he ran to catch up with the fleeing nurse. He saw what appeared to be fifteen or twenty staff members outside and inside Timmy's recovery room. The crowd parted to let Rob enter. Rob looked first at the doctor, as he had done before to gauge the look on his face. Next he looked at Cliff, who had some sort of beaming aura glowing around his head. Finally, Rob allowed himself to look at his lover, whom he expected to find dead. Instead, Timmy's eyes were open and alert. He actually smiled when he got a glimpse of Rob.
Not knowing what had happened or what might happen, Rob came slowly toward Timmy's bed trying to believe a bit more with each step he took.
"What in God's name happened?", is all Rob could ask himself. "Timmy...?"
"Rob...?"
Rob couldn't help himself. He ran to Timmy despite all the medical staff and equipment and planted a huge kiss on Timmy's lips...for everyone to see...unashamed!!!
There was not a dry eye in the room, Nurses, doctors, techs, orderlies, both male and female, wept aloud. Cliff, still standing beside the bed, reached forward and placed one of his hands on Timmy's head, the other on Rob's and he prayed silently, "I will lift up my eyes unto the hills...from whence cometh my help."
The news of Timmy's miraculous recovery spread from floor to floor throughout St. Luke's. There were no words to describe what had just happened, especially from those who were eyewitnesses. Slowly, the crowd disassembled and the staff returned to their regular duties, tending to their other patients.
Through his tears, Cliff could barely see the speed-dial button on his cell phone to call Roger.
"Johnny?" Jeff called out rather excitedly over the phone.
"Hiya, good-looking!" Johnny replied.
"How's work?"
"Nothing that a hug from you and a dose of Prozac wouldn't cure," Johnny sighed, jokingly. "What's up?"
"I just talked to Dad. The adoption agency is coming by tonight to give Dad, David, Kyle, and Ryan, the once-over. They want to see the house, how much room we have! Ha! That's a joke! Dad's got enough space to house a whole orphanage if it were necessary."
"That's great, Jeff," Johnny said, joining Jeff's enthusiasm. "Do we have to be there, too?"
"Dad wants us to be...of course, depending on how late you have to work."
"I can leave early. Maybe you could come by and pick me up around five-thirty?"
"No prob!" Jeff said.
"Any word yet from Father Cliff in New York, about Timmy?"
"Not yet! I'm doing my best to hold down the fort here at the church. I talked with 'Uncle' Roger' a few minutes ago and he's ready for a room on the psych ward. He has a meeting with some important contractors tomorrow morning and couldn't go with Cliff. He's worried about Cliff in New York as much as he is about Timmy."
"Do you think Father Cliff will be back in time for Sunday mass?"
"I don't know, but just in case he can't make it back, Father Chris and I have everything under control at the church. There's just one problem."
"What's that?"
"Well, since Bishop Van DerHorst, in the presence Father Cliff and the congregation, ordained me a Deacon while the church was being refurbished, Father Chris wants me to give the sermon. He says it'll be good practice for me."
"Why should that be a problem? With your gift of gab, you could preach a sermon on any topic at any given moment."
"Gift of gab, huh?"
"You know what I mean. That's one of the things I love most about you, honey, you're never at a loss for words on any given subject."
"And I thought you married me because of my gifts in the bedroom."
"That's just a bonus that I and I alone get to enjoy. When you decide to deliver a message, you make it sound as if you're talking to the entire world...and very frankly, you should be. I've loved what you had to say since you prepared for the debate at the school." Johnny reminded him sincerely. "Now tell me more about the adoption agency."
"Well, Ryan and Kyle had spoken to them about this three-year-old little boy. His parents were druggies or something and they lost custody of him."
"That's a shame."
"But wait! There's more! It seems this wasn't the first kid they had taken away from them. There's a six-year-old, the kid's older brother, and there's a good chance the agency wants to make it a package deal."
"You mean two little boys?"
"Yep!"
"How do Ryan and Kyle feel about taking on a pair?"
"They're ecstatic! Dad and David are too!"
"Damn, Jeff, that just sounds great!"
"I know. I went down and lit two candles at St. Jude's statue and two more at St. Francis' and I said a rosary. I thought it was a good idea. I mean, it never hurts to have a little added help."
"I love you more and more every day, if that's possible, Jeff. I never knew how empty my life was until I met you and even though I haven't always been that religious, not a day goes by that I don't thank God or whomever for letting you come into my life...or rather allowing me to come into yours."
"We're a team, Johnny, forever and ever...and don't you forget that! You're all I want or ever will want."
"If I may be so bold, why don't you use that as the start of a text for Sunday...'Knowing when you've found the special person in your life'?"
"Heck, I know I could talk about that."
"Well?"
"OK. You talked me into it!"
"Jeff, is the agency all squared away on the kids moving in with gay parents?"
"With Dad as Kyle and Ryan's lawyer? And especially since they're gonna be his grand-kids?"
"I guess the agency doesn't stand a chance then. I know I didn't when I had my doubts about moving in with you."
"It's a good thing you moved in. I'd've had you arrested and put in chains in the basement so I could visit you nightly just to ravage your sexy body."
"That might have proved interesting," Johnny joked, "but, kiddo, you're the one with the sexy body."
"Shoot! I've had this body all my life. YOU'RE what makes it sexy!"
Just then, call-waiting signaled on Jeff's phone.
"Hold on a minute, I have another call!"
Jeff clicked the phone to hear, "Jeff?". It was Cliff.
"Father! Hold on, I'm on the other line talking with Johnny. I'll be right with you."
"Give him my love," Cliff said,
Jeff gave Johnny his farewell kisses over the receiver and told him he would see him in a couple of hours. Then he returned to Cliff's call.
"Did you call 'Uncle' Roger yet? He's on pins and needles waiting to hear from you!"
"I just talked with him and hopefully I settled him down a bit. I worry about his blood pressure ever since his stroke."
"Father! How's Timmy?" Jeff asked with much compounded fear and excitement.
"He's weak, Jeff, but thank God, he's gonna pull through."
"YEOOW!!" Jeff screamed. "Sorry, Father, I didn't mean to deafen you. I'm so relieved."
"We all are...especially Rob." Cliff said.
"Where are you, at the hospital?" Jeff asked.
"No. I was going to check into a hotel but Rob wouldn't hear of it! He's still at Timmy's bedside. He gave me the keys to his apartment and I guess I'll be spending the night here."
"That's super!" Jeff exclaimed. "You and Rob have a lot to catch up on."
"How are things at the church?"
"You mean before or after the break in?"
"What break in?" Cliff asked, extremely concerned.
"Oh, some asshole, broke in and we took inventory to see what was missing."
"Good God! What was taken?"
"They must've pulled a huge truck up to the side door and took your lectern."
"You clown!" Cliff said, relieved. "You had me going there for a second."
"I thought you could stand a bit of humor."
"Yeah, thanks."
"Sorry, I couldn't resist. No, everything is fine...all on schedule. Father Chris and I are serving mass and he asked if I'd deliver the sermon."
"I might stay away on purpose just to allow you to say what you want to say."
"I'm scared shitless," Jeff said. "Please tell me you're coming home before Sunday."
"I probably will, after I talk with Rob. But, in the meanwhile, I know you've got everything under control."
"God! If you only knew..."
"Jeff, I have all the faith in the world in you. You may be Walter's natural son, but you're just an extension of me and Roger, both. Remember, anything and I do mean ANYTHING you need, call Roger."
"I will and don't you worry, Johnny and I will take good care of him until you get back home."
"How's Johnny doing at his new job?"
"Wonderfully! Except he's buzzed nearly every hour by Dr. Middleton, calling to ask if he's heard from Father Chris."
"Is Ed in some kind of trouble?"
"I don't think so. Johnny seems to think it's personal."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Is something going on between Father Chris and Dr. Middleton?"
"I'm not answering that question. You'll have to ask your 'Uncle' Roger and see what he has to say about Chris and Ed.."
"You couldn't prove it by Johnny and me. I called Troy and he said something about Father Chris and Dr. Middleton going out for dinner and coming back to Father Chris' house and going into the den to listen to Marler or Mawler or something."
"Troy and his knack for spreading the news! He's almost as bad as Roger, but not quite!" Cliff exclaimed.
"Oh ho! Then there IS something going on between them?"
"Believe me Jeff, I don't know a thing. But IF you're really curious, why not ask Chris, himself?"
"I thought Dr. Middleton was straight." Jeff said.
"He IS straight, Jeff. That's why I won't be a part of Roger's rumors."
"If I were straight, Chris would turn me on."
"Jeff, I don't think you'd better let Johnny hear you say that!"
"Oh, Johnny trusts me...I think!"
"Keep the candles burning for Timmy and I'll call Roger and then, you, as soon as I have more news about him."
"OK."
The doorbell at Rob's apartment rang.
"Jeff, can you hold on a minute, there's someone at the door. Perhaps it's a friend of Timmy's who's come by to ask about him."
Cliff laid the receiver down and walked over to the door and opened it. There was a middle-aged woman standing there in an overcoat, covering what appeared to be a maid's uniform.
"Yes? May I help you?"
"My name is Ida," the woman said. "It's my day to clean the apartment, but I seemed to have misplaced my key."
"Oh, come right on in," Cliff invited her. "Just go about your duties. Rob will be home in a couple of hours. I'm just a friend minding the apartment until he gets back."
"I heard that the roommate was in some kind of an accident. Is he all right?" the woman queried.
"Yes, he is in the hospital, but he's going to be all right."
"That's good to hear," she said. "The two boys are such a nice young couple. It's an honor and a pleasure to work for them."
"If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation. If you need me for anything, don't hesitate to interrupt me."
"Thank you, sir, but I have everything I need and I know just where everything I want is."
Cliff went back to the phone to continue talking with Jeff.
"Who was it?" Jeff asked, in his usual inquisitive youthful nature.
"It was just the maid who comes in to clean for Rob and Timmy. Listen, pal, I'll call you tonight at your house after I've talked with Roger and let you know what my plans are, after I talk with Rob. I'll probably go back to the hospital to see Timmy sometime early in the evening."
"OK, Father. Give Rob and Timmy a hug for me and tell them I love them."
"I will, Jeff."
"And, oh yeah, I love you, too, Father."
"Me too. That goes without saying." Cliff made a kissing sound over the phone. "Talk to you tonight, little guy! Good-bye."
"Bye, Father." Jeff hung up the receiver, suddenly realizing he hadn't told Cliff about the adoption inspection tonight. Oh, well, he'd tell him later when he called.
Cliff heard the maid opening and shutting kitchen cabinet doors and drawers, getting her house-cleaning supplies and implements.
"Ida," Cliff said, sticking his head in the kitchen doorway. "I want to shave and shower. Do you know where Rob and Timmy keep their guest towels, soap, et cetera?"
"Why, certainly," she replied. "Let me get you some."
Ida disappeared into the master bedroom and returned with a couple of bath towels, a hand towel, a wrapped new toothbrush, a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a disposable razor. She handed the load to Cliff.
"Thanks. I thought I would shower, but after my plane ride and my afternoon at the hospital, I think I would like to soak in the tub for a while. So, if you'll excuse me?"
"Go right ahead, sir," she said. "I have enough to keep me busy."
Cliff went into the guest bedroom and then on into the guest bathroom. He ran a tub of almost scalding water as he undressed.
"Ida", stuck her head in the entrance of the guest bedroom and listened diligently to hear when Cliff submerged himself into the tub. She even heard him sigh with an "oooh" as he relaxed. Next, she went into the kitchen where she had left her purse. She opened it and retrieved a butcher knife with a nine-inch blade. She opened the drawer next to the sink, which housed the silverware and extracted an old-fashioned knife sharpener and began to hone her blade. She almost made a production of her act as she pulled a hair from her head and pretended to slice it to make sure the blade was fully sharpened.
"So, Timmy's in the hospital," she thought, "and Rob won't be home for a couple of hours. So I wonder who this faggot is in the bathtub? No matter! If he's a friend of theirs, the world will be better off without him!"
She quietly tiptoed across the guest bedroom floor to the bathroom where Cliff was soaking and she slowly turned the knob, which fortunately for her, Cliff had failed to lock.
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(To be continued in "Briarwood"---BOOK FOUR-chapter-forty-two)